


A Glimpse Of Perfection

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, M/M, OOC Ron and Hermione, forced cheating, love potions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2018-03-25 15:10:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3815065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry loves Draco, Draco loves Harry, but there are a few people who're just not okay with that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Glimpse Of Perfection

A Glimpse of Perfection

_Draco Malfoy looked impossible. He lay spread-eagled on the bed with his back arched in pleasure, his face and chest red and sweaty as he gasped for breath, undone._

_“Yes, Harry!” he chanted, grabbing and twisting the bed sheets in his desperate hands. “Yes!”_

_Harry pounded into him for all he was worth, his widened, hungry eyes fixated on Draco. Taking in every twitch, every moan and gasp. For a second, he was stunned by how he'd almost given this up. How that cataclysmic event had almost stripped Harry of Draco and this perfection._

_“Please, go faster, go faster, Harry, please –”_

_Gripping Draco by the hips, Harry rocked up onto his heels and began to fuck Draco at an angle. Draco's eyes rolled up into the back of his head and he let out a thin wail._

_“Fuck, Draco, you're so beautiful – Fuck!”_

*

It all began on a rainy day in the middle of June.

Harry's Floo had broken a few days ago and he'd been forced to wait a few days before the repairman had enough time in his schedule to drop in and fix it. Therefore, he'd been forced to Apparate everywhere he needed to go. Unfortunately for him, he was not the most coordinated person in the world and usually ended up a fair distance away from the spot he'd intended to land at.

This time, he landed on a person.

“What the hell!” they cried, as Harry fell on top of them. They crashed to the ground in a tangle of limbs.

“Merlin, I am so sorry,” gasped Harry, desperately trying to push himself off the person – the man – before he could do any more damage. “Are you okay?”

“Am I okay?” the man spluttered. “You _fell on top of me_! What did you think you were doing?”

“I was trying to Apparate,” said Harry miserably. “I'm no good at it.”

“Yeah, I can see that – _Potter_?”

Bewildered, Harry looked down.

“ _Malfoy_?”

They stared at each other in silent disbelief as the rain thundered down around them. Harry realised with a jolt that he was still straddling Malfoy's waist. Blushing to the roots of his hair, he scrambled to his feet. After a second of consideration, he held his hand down to help Malfoy up too. Malfoy stared at it, as if he didn't know what to do with it, then carefully grasped it and allowed himself to be hauled up.

“You're not hurt, are you?” asked Harry nervously. The last thing he wanted was to forgo breakfast to accompany Malfoy to St. Mungo's.

Malfoy shook his arms out, kicked his legs a bit and twisted his upper body from side to side. “No, it seems that I'm all good,” he said, “which is lucky for you.”

“Yeah,” said Harry fervently. “It is.”

They stared at each other, a wall of awkwardness seemingly building itself between them. Without biting, antagonistic comments, they were both at a real loss for what to say to each other.

“So, uh, where were you going before I dropped in on you?” asked Harry nervously.

“Coffee shop, hundred metres down the road from here,” said Malfoy quietly, pointing in the direction he was headed.

After the end of the war, the Ministry had decreed that the Wizarding world would integrate with the Muggle in small ways. In the span of two years the amount of coffee shops had increased, until there was at least three on every street. One could never go far without encountering the strong smell of ground coffee beans.

“You go to coffee shops?” asked Harry, surprised.

“Is there some kind of problem with that?” Malfoy challenged, arching a brow.

“No, no, not at all! I was just … surprised.”

“So was I when you dropped on me out of nowhere,” said Draco.

“Well, you've got me there, I guess …”

Once again, they slipped into an awkward silence.

“Right, well I'll be going then,” mumbled Malfoy, side-stepping around Harry. “See you later, P –”

“Do you mind if I join you?” The words fell out of Harry's mouth before he could stop them. He felt his cheeks go red in embarrassment as Malfoy gawked at him. “It's just that, well, we haven't seen each other in a while. I thought it would be good to … catch up.”

“You make it sound like we're old friends from school who've simply lost contact, and not bitter rivals.” Malfoy smirked at him, sweeping his hair behind his shoulders. “Fine. If you want to join me, come along and wipe that ridiculous expression off your face. I'll not be seen in the presence of someone who looks so … beastly.”

Wondering what kind of expression he was wearing, Harry tried to school his features neutral. Malfoy's lips twitched, however, and made Harry wonder if he'd been at all successful.

He followed _Malfoy_ into the coffee shop and when he left, _Draco_ was all he could think about.

*

After three months of dating, Harry and Draco were outed in the morning edition of the Daily Prophet, kissing sweetly on the front step of Draco's apartment building.

“Fucking damn it!” Harry yelled, throwing the paper aside. He grabbed at his hair and tugged, positively fuming. “Can't the press just leave well enough alone for fucking once? Can't I have _anything_ to myself?”

“It was only a matter of time before word got out,” said Draco, the tension in his clenched jaw belying his calm tone. “When you're as notorious as you are, these things don't keep quiet for long.”

“I wanted to tell everyone in my own damn time,” Harry growled.

“What're we going to do about this?” Draco sat down at the kitchen table opposite Harry, folding his arms delicately on the tabletop. “There'll be gossip, Howlers … Who knows what they'll say about us?”

“Oh believe me, I can already guess. That pile of shit,” he pointed to the heap of newspaper on the ground, his lips twisting like he'd tasted something sour, “already slandered our relationship enough to give the rumour mill at least three decades worth of ammunition.”

“You're not going to have second thoughts about this, are you?” asked Draco carefully. He pressed his fists into his thighs, frightened of the answer he'd receive. “About us?”

Harry gave him a sharp look. “No, why would I? Are you?”

“Of course not!”

“Good, because I love you. You'd have a hard time getting rid of me now.”

Draco grinned, leaning in for a chaste kiss. “Good.”

And with that, Draco went to ward the house against the Howlers he could see being carried by owls in the distance. Never let it be said that angry witches and wizards weren't quick to write their Howlers when their hopes and dreams of being Mr or Mrs. Potter were cruelly destroyed in the face of reality.

Harry and Draco were the talk of the country, it seemed, for no matter where they went or what time, someone was always whispering about them. But they weathered it through, hoping all the while that bigger and better news would come and eclipse the news of their relationship.

They didn't get their wish until three and a half months after their relationship had gone public, when the Head of the Department of Magical Sports and Games had been caught having an affair with nine different women, cheating on his wife, the secretary to the Minister of Magic.

“Take me to bed,” said Draco, draping himself across Harry after throwing the Daily Prophet aside. “We must celebrate the fact that there's finally no picture or rumour about us anywhere in this rotten paper.”

Harry joyfully obliged.

*

_Harry had Draco bent over the edge of the bed, lifting his arse up higher._

_There were bruises on Draco's hips from Harry's fingers, and bruises on his collarbones from Harry's lips. He was a picture of ruffled perfection that an artist would kill to have, to create, and he was all Harry's._

_Draco's cries of ecstacy were almost never-ending. He'd reached one hand back to grip Harry's thigh so hard his fingernails pinched the skin._

_Harry loved him like this; driven out of his mind from the feeling of Harry's cock buried deep inside him, unable to form a coherent word or thought._

*

“This has got to stop,” said Hermione, blowing out a loud breath. “Harry's been seeing Malfoy for, what, a year and two months now? We can't let this go on any further, Ron, or he's going to get hurt.

“I agree,” said Ron, sighing gustily. “But what can we do? Every time we try to warn Harry, he just shrugs us off and says 'Malfoy wouldn't do that.'”

“Maybe the way to go about it isn't convincing Harry to break up with Malfoy,” said Hermione carefully. “What if it was the other way around? Harry's a stubborn fool; he won't give up Malfoy that easily. But we know what Malfoy's like. He'll be easier to fool.”

“What do you have in mind, 'Mione?” asked Ron, a slow grin spreading across his face. “I know that look in your eye; you're scheming again, aren't you?”

“Is that man you tried to set Harry up with a few months ago still available?” asked Hermione. “Marcus or whatever?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Bring him over tomorrow night at eight o'clock. I've got an idea.”

*

It was surprisingly easy to feed Harry a love potion. He trusted his friends so completely that he allowed them to take care of their drinks. Hermione shoved down a pang of guilt. _You'll thank me for this later, Harry,_ she thought, tipping the potion into his Butterbeer. _I'm not going to give that scum a chance to hurt you. This is for your own good._

“Here Harry!” she called, walking over to Harry and handing him his drink. Over her shoulder, she nodded at Ron who stood near the door with Marcus, who they promised a second chance at a date with Harry Potter. Speaking a muttered word, as Harry drank his Butterbeer and finding nothing wrong with it, Ron brought Marcus inside.

“Hello,” said Marcus nervously, sitting next to Harry. “You look good this evening.”

“Thank you?” said Harry, frowning. “Uh, who are you? Have I seen you before?”

For one horrible moment, she thought the love potion hadn't worked. Her whole plan hinged on that love potion! If it didn't work, she and Ron were so screwed.

“I'm Marcus,” said Marcus, holding out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too.” Harry shook his head. “You know, you have the nicest brown eyes I've ever seen.”

His tone had taken on a dreamy quality. It was working!

 _Take that, Malfoy,_ Hermione thought vindictively. _You'll never get the chance to hurt Harry ever again!_

Within the hour, Harry and Marcus were kissing furiously on the lounge, whilst Ron and Hermione (standing vigil out of concern for the potion's effects on Harry and because they wanted to see Malfoy's face when he walked in) stood in the hall. This was going to be _great_

*

“What the fuck is going on here?” Draco screamed. He dropped his suitcase at his feet, his eyes fixed on Harry who'd just pulled himself away from some random bloke that he'd been furiously kissing. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Weasley and Granger smirking. “What the fuck do you think you're doing, Harry?”

“Who's this guy?” the random bloke demanded, gesturing at Draco. “You know him?”

“I'm his boyfriend, you absolute _fuck_ ,” yelled Draco, whipping out his wand and blasting the man against the wall before anyone could blink. Harry let out a cry of alarm. “You better get the fuck out of here before I rip you limb from limb.”

The man clutched his head looking dazed, blood seeping out from between his fingers.

“Are you okay?” Harry simpered, crawling toward him.

Draco, blinded by rage and tears, waved his wand; the man was thrown out the window as if a rope had wound around his ankle and jerked him. He didn't care about the shattered glass that rained down on Weasley and Granger, who shrieked in alarm and covered their heads, forgetting entirely about the wands in their hands.

“All of you,” seethed Draco, tears running freely down his cheeks, “get the fuck out of my house before I make you regret the day your parents decided to fuck each other and conceive you. _Now_!”

As soon as they were gone, Weasley sneering rather triumphantly before he slammed the door shut hard enough to make the picture frame of Harry and Draco on their first anniversary together fall off the wall, Draco sank to his knees and cried.

The next morning, he burned all of Harry's letters unopened, and screamed through the locked door when Harry arrived trying to explain himself that he didn't ever want to see Harry ever again. How could Harry have done this to him? Draco fucking loved him, and had it all thrown back in his face in the cruellest way.

* 

Harry sat up, blinking sleep crust from his eyes. He sat in Ron and Hermione's spare bedroom – how did he get there? He didn't remember leaving the house last night. An arm wound around Harry's waist as he tried to get out of bed.

“Where are you going, baby?” asked a sleepy voice that was most definitely not Draco's.

“What the fuck?” Harry cried, throwing the arm off him and leaping up. A man, hopefully half-naked (but the blankets concealed everything below the waist) sat up, frowning. No, he was definitely not Draco. What the fuck? How did this happen? “We didn't have sex did we?”

“No,” said the man, pouting. “I wanted to, but your friends said that was strictly forbidden.”

“My friends? You mean Ron and Hermione?”

“Yeah. Don't you remember what happened? They said you were interested in a date and brought me over,” said the man. His lips twisted. “Then that strange man burst in and almost ruined the date. He said he was your boyfriend or some such rot. Crazy ex?” he asked.

 _No_ , thought Harry, aghast. _No, he really is my boyfriend. Oh Draco, what did you see? I hope you're not too angry with me._ “I'm going to need you to leave.”

The man blinked, astonished. “Excuse me?”

“I don't know who you are, or how either of us got here, but I think I have a clue as to who is responsible,” said Harry darkly. “If you're not out of this house within the next two minutes, I'll throw you out the window.”

The man didn't need to be told twice; he gathered his shirt and shoes and raced out the door. Harry heard him making hurried apologies to Ron and Hermione in the kitchen, and a few seconds later the front door slammed shut. Ron and Hermione were going to get it _big time_

*

Hermione sat at the kitchen table, head in her hands and sobbing quietly. She'd been crying for the last five minutes as Harry yelled and berated her and Ron after they told him the truth about what they'd done the previous night.

“I'm so sorry,” she said. “I know we shouldn't have gotten involved –”

“No,” said Harry gruffly, “you shouldn't have.”

She flinched, a little squeak bursting from her lips. Ron gave Harry a reproachful look, wrapped his arm around her shoulders and said, “Cut her some slack, Harry. She was worried about you.”

“There was no reason to be worried!” Harry slammed his fist into the counter. “Draco and I were just fine.”

“Harry, it's _Malfoy_ ,” said Ron. “Why _shouldn't_ we be worried about you?”

“Because I love him, and he loves me. No,” he added sharply, as Ron opened his mouth to counter, “don't you _dare_ say anything. You don't know him like I do. Both of you could've ruined the best thing that ever happened to me. I don't need you two to worry about me and police my actions and relationships, I need you both there to support me no matter what.”

“We just didn't want him to hurt you,” said Hermione meekly. “We didn't want to give him that chance.”

“And by doing all this, you've wound up doing the one thing you were trying to prevent in the first place; hurting me. Really, great fucking job there.” Harry spun around, leaning heavily on the counter. He could hardly stand to look at them now. Whilst he understood where they were coming from, it didn't make him any less angry at them. “Could you both leave, please? I need to think.”

“About what?” Ron asked, as the scrape of chairs signalled him and Hermione standing.

“About how to get Draco back.”

“What?!” Hermione cried, leaping to her feet. “We did this so you'd know he's not worth your time! Harry, what good could a relationship with _him_ do?”

“He's a Death Eater,” added Ron. “Practically his entire family was. Doesn't that say something to you about him? You're much better off putting all this behind you.”

“Exactly,” said Hermione.

“And there you go again!” Harry threw up his hands and span around. “You're trying to control my actions, trying to tell me what to do. To be quite honest I'm fucking sick of it. You're not my parents, you're my best friends. Neither of you know what's best for me, so I'd appreciate it if you stop pretending. I _am_ going to win Draco back no matter what you think. You can either support me, or I'll walk out of here and never speak to either of you again.”

Ron and Hermione's jaws dropped.

“I mean it,” said Harry, before they could utter a word of protest. “I love you both, but I can't just sit back and watch as you try to control my life. I'm not going to let you dictate who I should and should not see; it's not up to you.”

A tear dripped down Hermione's cheek. “We just care about you.”

“We want to see you happy,” said Ron.

Harry sighed, folding his arms across his chest. “I know, I get that. But you two must've been blind the entire time; I _was_ happy.”

Hermione looked like she dearly wanted to say something. However, Ron grabbed her hand to attract her attention, shaking his head, and she desisted.

“Did you mean what you said?” she asked quietly, instead. “About cutting ties with us?”

“If you don't support me, then yes,” said Harry. Now he'd given the ultimatum, he knew he couldn't take it back even if he wanted to.

“Okay then.” Hermione's jaw trembled and she pressed her fingers to her lips, her eyes swimming with tears. She sucked in a deep, calming breath. “We'll support you.”

“Completely,” said Ron, who didn't look very happy about the turn of events.

“Right,” said Harry, standing. This didn't mean that they were forgiven; it would take weeks, possibly months to earn his forgiveness. It would probably take a lot longer for his trust in them to be restored. He just needed to know they weren't going to interfere again. “Thank you. Now I've got to go.”

“Go?” asked Hermione.

“Yeah, I've got a boyfriend I need to apologise to.”

*

_Draco came with a tortured scream, his exhausted body twisting and jerking as he emptied himself over the sheets._

_Harry followed seconds later, the tightening of Draco's channel around his cock forcing an orgasm from him that was so intense it bordered on painful. He bowed over Draco, pressing small kisses to the back of his sweaty neck, riding out his orgasm to its completion._

_It took a few seconds to get his breath back. He gently pulled out of Draco, who twitched and hissed, and set about moving them both onto the bed. Draco was boneless and unhelpful, his limbs flopping about uselessly._

_“You could help, you know,” said Harry, amused._

_Draco moaned. “No.”_

_Harry snorted, his heart aching as he reminded himself just how much he loved this adorable, impossible man. “Of course you wouldn't.”_

_He and Draco wound up snuggling in the centre of the bed, Draco's head tucked under Harry's chin as one of his legs pushes into the space between Harry's. So comfortable, so right. Harry couldn't imagine his life without Draco in it._

*

“So,” said Draco. He kept the door to his apartment between himself and Harry like a shield. “You've come to explain this situation to me?” 

“Yes,” said Harry firmly. He wanted to ask if he could come in, because this kind of conversation shouldn't take place on a doorstep, but if Draco wanted to talk out here then fine. He'd just have to go along with it. “I want you to know that I didn't kiss that man.”

Draco scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Really, Harry? You had your tongue down his throat.”

Well, Harry couldn't refute that one. “Okay, but … I didn't do it willingly.”

“Harry, for the love of –” Draco stepped back, about to shut the door. Harry wedged his foot in the gap to prevent it from closing. “I can't listen to your bullshit any more, Harry. Get your foot out of my doorway and leave.”

“No. You really need to listen to me. I –”

“Oh, do I? So you cheat on me, then come around thinking you can give me orders?”

This was going nowhere fast.

“Ron and Hermione were trying to break us up so they fed me a love potion,” Harry said quickly. Draco paused, his grip going momentarily lax on the door and Harry used it to his advantage to force it open a little more. “They brought that bloke over to be the intended target of the potion. They knew you'd be coming home soon so they … So that's what they did, because they wanted you to see it.”

“So your friends fed you a love potion, set you on a random bloke, and you can still call them friends?” asked Draco in disbelief. “I knew they didn't like our relationship, but that's a new low even for them.”

“I told them off,” said Harry. “I said that I love you and _only_ you. If they didn't like that, then they could leave. They were really apologetic about what they'd done.”

“I don't care how apologetic they are,” snarled Draco. “Our relationship is none of their business!”

“That's what I told them. I said that if they didn't trust me to make my own decisions and such, I'd walk out and never speak to them again.”

Draco paused, then said, “I'm still mad at you. I'm still so _fucking_ mad. But if what you're saying about Granger and Weasley is true – and you're not the type to throw your friends under the Knight Bus – then I have no other choice but to believe you. Except … that hurt Harry. That really fucking hurt, coming home after a hard day at work to find you'd shoved your tongue down some random bloke's throat, halfway to fucking on the couch we bought together when we moved in.”

Harry winced, clapping his hands together in front of him as if to pray. “I know, and I'm so sorry. I'll do whatever I can to make it up to you. You name it, I'll do it. Just please, please don't leave me.” He'd get down on his knees if he had to. “I love you, Draco.”

He saw Draco's defences start to lower, the hard look in his eyes starting to soften, and Harry could've crowed in happiness.

“May I come inside?” he asked finally.

Draco considered that for a few seconds, and then sighed and stepped back, holding the door open wider. “You're not completely forgiven yet, mind,” he said, as Harry darted inside. “Just because I believe you about Weasley and Granger doesn't mean I'm not still hurt by what you did.”

“I know, I know,” said Harry, “but I fully intend on spending the rest of my life loving you and making up for it.” He paused, suddenly feeling awkward, tapping the ground with the toe of his shoe. He gave Draco a hopeful look through his fringe. “You know, if you'll have me.”

“How could I say no after all that begging?” Draco's smile trembled, but it was a smile all the same. Harry felt like his heart had grown wings and soared high. “I'd be an idiot to turn you away without giving you a second chance.”

Grinning from ear to ear, Harry opened his arms wide. There was only a second of hesitation, before Draco crossed the distance and allowed Harry to envelope him in a tight hug.

“You do this to me again and I'll rip your dick off and feed it to you,” said Draco petulantly, his voice muffled into Harry's chest. “And don't think I won't!”

Harry merely smiled, burying his nose into Draco's hair.

*

Later that night, Harry awoke, still cuddling Draco and found himself grinning stupidly. They smelled of sweat, the skin of their abdomens sticky and uncomfortable with dried come. Harry could still hear Draco's pleasured cries ringing in his ears. No matter what, Harry knew he'd always question what he'd done to deserve all of this. It didn't matter that there were hundreds of people who would line up to tell him why he deserved the bliss that love brought him; he would never quite be able to believe that this life, this love, was _his_.

For the first time in a long time, he was glad he hadn't listened to Ron and Hermione, or allowed them to try and dictate his life and relationships. He'd never have been given this glimpse of perfection, never have felt the ball of affection and love that flashed white hot inside his chest every time he looked at Draco.

The accomplishments he'd achieved in his life all paled in comparison to this one. He knew – just _knew_ – that he'd fight for Draco and this life they were building, until the day he died.


End file.
